Wrong Century
by onemorehandmedown
Summary: Following a stay in the crummiest of all crummy motel Sam becomes seriously ill and Dean finds another reason to hate rats as if he needed one! .
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own a computer and a cat with no brain. Kripke et al own Supernatural.

**Wrong Century**

"That'll teach you to throw furniture at me you friggin' bitch." Dean muttered as he dropped a blazing match into the gaping hole at his feet. Flames sprang to life, illuminating both Dean's face and the face of Sam who was standing on the opposite side of the newly dug up grave. Dean had a black eye and bruising to his jaw not to mention the cuts and a whole new world of bruising on the rest of his body.

"Don't tell me you were leading her on Sammy. Look at you, you're not even crying!" Ever since he'd realised three days ago that the spirit they were pursuing directed all her attacks at him while leaving Sam alone Dean had been implying that she had the hots for Sam and wanted him all to himself.

"Oh, shut up Dean. It's not my fault she preferred using you for target practice!"

Dean chuckled; it was so easy to get a rise out of his brother. He stopped when he saw the glare Sam was directing at him. Sam was sweaty, covered in dirt and, if the way Dean was feeling was any indication, he was exhausted. Probably best to just drop the subject.

The fire eventually burned itself out and the boys filled in the hole as quickly as they could. It had started to rain by the time their current motel came into view, illuminated by the Impala's headlights and the tacky sign that appeared to read 'P NE O D MO L'. Dean scowled at it. They'd spent the better part of a week here and it was far and away the crappiest motel they'd stayed in, which was saying something. If there had been another motel anywhere near Dean would have moved there in a heartbeat. Unfortunately there wasn't so they'd had to just put up with the filthy, insect infested room. Just that morning Dean had found what he was sure was rat shit on the table. He hadn't actually seen any rats but if he had he probably would have bought all the rat traps he could get his hands on despite the fact they were leaving tomorrow. Rats were right up there on Dean's list of hates along with Yellow Eyes and anyone who messed with Sam.

On the upside there was hot water in the shower, which was about the only thing Dean was looking forward to as he eased the Impala into the parking space outside. He would have been looking forward to the bed as well if it wasn't for the fact that the sagging mattress forced his body into something approaching a V shape which was uncomfortable and led to him waking up several times a night. He'd contemplated sleeping on the floor but the questionable cleanliness of the carpet put him off. Apart from the number of insect droppings that were probably in there the mottled colouring suggested that it hadn't always been brown and God only knew what had made it that colour.

"I call first shower!"

"You wanna bet?" They hadn't even reached the door and Sam was already trying to get his paws on the shower. Dean didn't blame him but the fact remained that he was at least as dirty and sticky as his brother and just as eager wash it off.

No sooner had Dean unlocked the door than Sam bolted inside. Dean switched on the light just in time to see his brother disappearing into the bathroom.

"You'd better not use all the hot water in there!" Privately Dean was impressed that Sam had managed to find his clothes at such speed in the dark. He sat down at the table and opened the laptop. He would have had a look at some of the news websites in search of their next case but why on earth would this dump have a wireless internet connection? They'd driven around for ages to find an unsecured wireless network to use just so they could research the case they'd just closed. So Dean settled for playing cards instead. He was up to what must have been something like his millionth game of Hearts; man, that computer was stupid, when Sam emerged from the bathroom.

"Did you get a connection?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but your computer is about as good at cards as you are." There was a click as the bathroom door closed.

"AHH! SHIT!"

"What happened? You ok Sam?" Dean came running out of the bathroom half dressed in response to his brother's yells. There didn't appear to be anything amiss but that didn't mean much. Sam was staring at something directly in front of him and as Dean didn't have x-ray vision he wasn't able to see what it was through Sam's back.

"I just got into bed with a damn rat!" Sam yelped "And the bastard bit me!"

"Where is it now?"

"I don't know, it ran off under the wardrobe when I yelled."

"Where'd it bite you?"

"On my arm." Sam indicated a spot on his left arm.

"I'll go get the first aid kit; we should get that cleaned up."

"Dude, it's just a rat bite."

"Yeah, and God only knows what it might have been doing with its mouth before it got to you. Damn thing was probably licking its own ass. You don't need an infected arm Sam." Dean headed for the door.

"Well at least put some clothes on before you go out there, its freezing. In fact, why don't you shower first and then you can fix my arm?"

Dean considered this for a moment. "Fine, but you'd better still be awake when I finish because we are doing this and I will wake you up if I have to."

***

Dean was up early the next morning. Not only was he eager to be shot of this shithole masquerading as a motel but he'd had an even more restless night than usual. After patching Sam up he'd inspected his own bed very carefully, but knowing that it was a rat free zone at the time he got into it was not enough to stop him imagining that the foul little things had come to call during the night and were crawling all over him. Dean hadn't been intending to say anything, certain that he wouldn't be listened to, but when the manager mentioned that he was glad the room had been to Dean's liking all thoughts of a civil departure went out the window.

"I hope you haven't charged me more than about a dollar for it because that's all I should owe once the rats and cockroaches have put in their share!"

The manager looked deeply offended. Clearly the man was either a very good actor or he had never set foot in any of the rooms he rented out.

"Get out! This is a quality establishment and I won't have you speaking about it like that!"

"You've got an interesting definition of quality old man! This place could make a cardboard box under a bridge look clean!"

"Get out or I'm calling the police!"

Dean opened his mouth to retort but Sam intervened. "We're going, we're going." He grabbed Dean's arm and gently steered his brother out the door.

"What was that for?" Dean demanded as soon as they left the building. It wasn't as if the man hadn't deserved it and everything Dean had said was the truth, even if he had framed his observations in the most derogatory terms he could think of.

"Dean, do you really want to meet the local law enforcement? Why not just call Hendrickson and tell him where we are?"

Dean had to admit that Sam had a very good point. He got into the Impala and started the engine before sparing the motel one last disdainful look.

"Quality establishment my ass!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke & Co

**Wrong Century Ch 2**

"How far is the next town?" They had been on the road for over an hour and Dean was ravenous.

"At least sixty miles and quit asking would you? That's five times you've asked in the last ten minutes."

"Well I'm hungry."

"So am I, but I'm not the one who had a yelling match with a man who just happens to be the brother of the woman who runs the local diner!" Apparently word travelled fast and they'd been shooed out of the diner near the motel before they'd even sat down.

"Well if I shut up maybe you could stop twitching and wriggling around over there, I'm starting to think you've got worms."

"I think that damn rat gave me fleas."

"Great, well they better not think they're taking up residence in my car."

It was after nightfall when Dean pulled the Impala into a parking space at the Rest Stop Motel. The place was clearly cheap for a reason, the motels the boys stayed at usually were, but Dean felt that compared to the last place this was a palace. Not a cockroach or rat dropping in sight.

"So Sam, you find anything?" Dean had just emerged from the bathroom to find Sam hunched over the laptop apparently deeply absorbed in whatever was on the screen.

"Huh?"

"Did you find a new case for us?"

"Yeah, I think I might have. There's been three weird drownings at a lake in Hopeton, Iowa. The lake is in the middle of a popular park but there were only witnesses for the first drowning as they've all happened after dark. Of those witnesses one was higher than a kite so he's not being taken very seriously and the one who was sober said he saw something that looked like a monster attack the girl, Lydia Pendlebury, and drag her under the water. The police think that it was probably a person and that it was a combination of dim light and fright that caused the witness to think it was a monster. I think it sounds like our kind of weird."

"I think you might be right. Now get in the shower so we can go get something to eat."

***

"Ok geek boy, got any idea what we're dealing with?" They were sitting in a bar awaiting the counter meals they'd just ordered. Sam's face was hidden behind the laptop and the constant tapping of his fingers on the keyboard was starting to get on Dean's nerves.

"Well the witness said that this thing had webbed feet, a horned tail and lots of hair. I'm thinking a creature, maybe a water demon of some kind." The tapping continued.

Dean scowled and took a swig of his beer. The last time he'd encountered a water demon the damn thing had tried to drown him. Dean had no desire to repeat the experience.

The food arrived. Sam seemed oblivious, still glued to the computer.

"Sam, your food's getting cold. Put the computer away and have something to eat."

"What?"

Dean rolled his eyes and pointed at the plate of steak and chips to Sam's right. "Take a break and eat your dinner. Thin air isn't going to keep that oversized brain of yours ticking over."

Sam sighed and pushed the computer to one side. "I was getting to it. I'm not a Breatharian you know."

"What the hell's a Breatharian?"

"Never mind."

"No, tell me. I want to know." Dean didn't really but he was so bored at the moment that watching paint dry was starting to sound interesting.

"Breatharians believe that people don't need to eat, that they can live on light alone."

Dean snorted. "What a load of bull. I can't understand how people can believe stuff like that."

"Well apparently their leader didn't believe it either. There was a lot of disillusionment when he was caught ordering a chicken burger."

"People are crazy."

"Yeah, tell me about it. By the way, I think our friend in the lake might be a fuath."

"I think I've heard of those before. Type of water spirit isn't it?"

"Yeah. It doesn't like sunlight, which would explain why the attacks have all been at night, and cold steel will kill it instantly."

"Well that shouldn't be too difficult; we'll just stab the bastard. If we leave early tomorrow we'll probably be in Hopeton by mid afternoon."

***

"Dean, I thought we were planning to leave early."

"Go away Sam. Just give me five more minutes." Dean muttered blearily.

"Fine, I'm going to have a shower but if you're not up by the time I'm finished I swear I'll dump cold water on your head."

"You don't want to do that Sam, wouldn't be good for your health." There was no response other than the sound of the bathroom door closing. Dean closed his eyes and settled down again. It seemed like no time at all before he heard the water stop in the bathroom. He swore and sat up, rubbing his eyes. What time was it? A quick glance at the clock told him it was nearly eight. At this rate it would be at least half past by the time they left. Oh well, they'd get there before dark one way or another.

By the time they arrived in Hopeton daylight was in short supply, along with Sam's patience.

"We hardly have time for recon, much less hunting the damn thing!" He griped, "What if it takes someone else tonight?"

"Sam just shut up will you? I get it, you think we should have left earlier and yeah, you're probably right but unless you've got a time machine hidden somewhere I don't see the point of arguing about it." Dean had been listening to variations on the same theme all afternoon.

Sam's only reply was to give Dean a look that could have stripped paint.

"I wasn't planning on hunting the thing now anyway. Did you notice how many people are around? I think it might have been a bit of an understatement to call this place popular. We're going to have to go after it at night."

"But it's stronger at night!"

"Sam, we'd probably have a better chance of going unnoticed running naked through a crowded shopping mall than fighting the creature from the black lagoon here in broad daylight without someone seeing and calling the police. Do you want to call Hendrickson and tell him where we are?" Dean smirked at Sam's reaction to having his own words thrown back at him.

"That's a good back up plan Sam. If the cold steel doesn't work for some reason just give the thing that look you're giving me now and it should just shrivel up and die on the spot."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "I guess you have a point."

"What, you _like_ the death stare idea?"

"No idiot, I meant about hunting it at night."

The light was rapidly fading now and a brief look around the lake revealed nothing.

"Dean, are we hunting this thing tonight? Because if we aren't we should probably get out of here." Sam pointed to the sky which was now barely a shade lighter than pitch black.

"I think I saw a motel on the way here, the 'Pink Flamingo' or something. Looked like it'd be within our price range. We'll stay there will we?"

"Why not? Let's go."

They left, never noticing the eyes that were watching them from beneath the water.

Dean regretted his decision to stay at the Pink Flamingo the moment he walked into room 15. It wasn't just the flamingo that was pink it was the whole freaking place! The wallpaper, the curtains, the bedspreads, the table and chairs, the bathroom and even the wardrobe were all decorated in various shades of pink.

"Ugh!" Dean looked away with a pained expression. "Is there a law somewhere that says all decoration in cheap motels must be puke inducing?"

"I don't know, but if there is then whoever owns this place has nothing to worry about." Sam looked almost as disgusted as Dean.

"Let's just go get something to eat. I've got a feeling I'm gonna want to spend as little time as possible here."

***

"Morning, Sammy!"

"Dean, why are you hitting me in the head?" Sam asked weakly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm not. How much did you have to drink last night?"

"Just two beers."

"That's what I thought. So what's with the headache? You're not having a vision are you?"

"I think I'd know if I was having a vision, and why is it so cold in here? It feels like you've put the air-conditioner on instead of the heater."

That statement set off alarm bells in Dean's head. The heater had been on all night; in fact, before Sam woke up, Dean had been thinking of turning it down because the room was getting a bit too warm. He walked over and put his hand on Sam's forehead. Sam rolled his eyes and muttered something about mother hens but didn't try to push Dean away.

"Sammy you're boiling! I'm gonna get the thermometer and take your temperature properly but I think we can be pretty sure you've got one hell of a fever."

"105," Dean said, looking at the thermometer he'd just pulled from Sam's mouth, "So apart from a massive fever and a headache what else is wrong? And don't even think about telling me you're fine."

Sam sighed. "I hurt all over and I just feel really tired and out of it."

"Right, well you're clearly in no condition to do any recon today and you're definitely not up to hunting tonight. I guess we're going to be stuck in this awful room for longer than I thought. Unless I take out the fuath by myse…"

Sam cut in. "No Dean, you're not going after that thing alone. You have to have someone to watch your back." He started to climb out of bed but fell back groaning.

"Fine Sam, I won't go after it by myself. But I'm starting to think you need to see a doctor. If that fever hasn't gone down by midday, I'm taking you to the hospital."

To Dean's surprise Sam didn't even try to protest.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural - that would be Kripke and co.

A/N 1: A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed or is even reading this! I hope you're all enjoying it.

A/N 2: I have had a couple of comments about the fever I gave Sam in the last chapter. It seems that there is a difference between the Australian and American definitions of extreme fever and since my sources were Australian I went with that version. I take the medical research for my stories very seriously - my mum is an RN and I've listened to her nitpick at poor medical research in TV shows and, less commonly, novels more times than I care to count ("Of course the bloody thing is flat lining, it's not attached to anyone!" "Yeah, right, that'd happen, he's in a coma and they haven't intubated him!") - and I guess if I'm going to write fanfics about an American show I should use some American sources. If anyone can tell me some trustworthy American medical websites, books etc I would very much appreciate it.

**Wrong Century Ch 3**

Dean sat in the darkened room watching his brother sleep.

Less than an hour after Dean had discovered he had a fever Sam had started talking about the green elephants dancing on the ceiling. Needless to say the green elephants did not exist and Dean felt that delirium was a good enough reason to take Sam to the nearest ER. It hadn't been easy. Sam had serious difficulty walking and then, as if half carrying him wasn't hard enough, as they stepped out the door Sam had become convinced that something was attacking him. Dean was too busy dodging Sam's fists and trying to calm him down to even try working out what the imaginary enemy was supposed to be. Once in the car Sam had fallen asleep, which was good until they arrived at the hospital and Dean had to carry him in. Sam was far from being a lightweight. It was while carrying Sam that Dean noticed he had odd looking swellings on either side of his neck.

That was eight hours ago. Since being admitted Sam had been drifting in and out of sleep. The last time he woke up he'd started screaming and thrashing around. From what Dean was able to get out of him he gathered that Sam thought the ceiling had been transformed into a giant clown face. He was still none the wiser about what was causing all this. Sam had been examined, he'd had blood samples taken and yet all anyone seemed able to tell Dean was that it was an infection of some type. Dean was still waiting for Dr Trenwith to tell him something he didn't know.

Sam stirred and his eyes flickered open. Dean watched with bated breath, hoping that this wasn't the prelude to another visit from a clown or any violent but unidentifiable figment of Sam's imagination.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sam seemed fairly lucid, that had to be a good sign.

"What's going on Dean? What's wrong with me?"

"I wish I knew."

'What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that so far I haven't been told anything I didn't already know."

"I still feel like crap. Am I getting any better?"

"Apart from your fever dropping point two of a degree, no. I'm starting to wonder why I bothered bringing you here, all those antibiotics they're pumping into you – water would have just about the same effect."

Sam unsuccessfully tried to sit up. Looking at his arms his eyes widened – clearly he'd discovered what the problem was.

"Why am I strapped to the bed?"

"You were convinced something was trying to attack you and you tried to fight back. They decided you needed restraining after you gave one of the nurses a black eye."

"I did what?"

"She was trying to calm you down. I guess you thought she was the thing, whatever the hell it was supposed to be, that was after you, so you took a swing at her. Several swings actually." Dean shuddered at the memory. Three times when Sam had woken up he'd thought some non-existent thing was after him. Dean had never been able to get enough sense out of him to work out what it was meant to be.

"Oh God." Sam groaned.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it; it's not as if you knew what you were doing."

"That's all very well and good for you to say. What happened to the nurse?"

"I just told you – you gave her a black eye."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I meant after that."

"I think she went home."

Sam was silent for a moment, the expression on his face screaming 'guilty as hell!' loud enough that words probably weren't necessary.

"So how long before they take the restraints off?"

"I have no idea."

***

"Dean?"

Dean jumped about a foot in the air, but recovered his composure quickly when he realised it was just Dr Trenwith.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you could answer a few more questions for me, since Sam isn't awake."

Dean couldn't believe it. Hadn't he answered enough questions already?

"Ok, shoot."

"Have you had any close encounters with rats lately?"

Dean grimaced. "Sam found one of the little suckers in his bed just a few days ago."

"Where were you when that happened?"

"Little place called Bowen in Arizona. Why?"

"Dean, I think your brother has bubonic plague."

"Bubonic plague? Didn't that go out of fashion several hundred years ago?"

"No, and it's still around in Arizona."

"Well how the hell did Sam end up catching it?"

"Plague is carried by rats and other rodents. People catch it when they get bitten by a flea from an infected animal. I'm thinking that the little visitor Sam found in his bed was probably infected."

Dean scowled. "I hate rats!" he ground out.

"I bet you do."

"So what happens now?"

"We're going to switch Sam to a different antibiotic, one that's known to be effective against plague. But I should warn you Dean, plague is a nasty disease and even these days it can be fatal. Sam is strong and young and he hasn't developed plague pneumonia or meningitis, all of which is in his favour, but there is still a chance that he won't make it and you need to prepare yourself for that."

***

"There is still a chance he won't make it and you need to prepare yourself for that."

The words had been going round and round in Dean's head all night, keeping him awake despite his exhaustion. He'd called Bobby after learning that Sam might die. He might not be able to help but he was probably the only person other than Dean to care about Sam. He'd be at the hospital by midday. Sam, as if to provide the sharpest possible contrast to Dean, was sleeping peacefully and had been all night. It was a small comfort to Dean that Sam's fever had dropped a couple of degrees since his antibiotics had been switched over. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost Sam.

Dean was jolted from his reverie by a flurry of movement from Sam's bed.

"Sammy, you've got restraints on, remember?"

Sam stopped struggling and lay back. "Why? I haven't punched anyone else have I?"

"No, and if you continue not punching anyone I'm sure we can persuade the good doctor to order them taken off."

"I promise I'll behave myself. Now will you please go and find someone who can let me out of these."

"See that button there?" Dean pointed to the call button next to Sam's hand, "If you press that someone will come to us."

Sam started to say something but stopped abruptly, staring at Dean.

"You've been crying."

"No I haven't." Dean said quickly, looking away.

"Dean, what's wrong?" There was a note of panic in Sam's voice now.

Dean swallowed. Sam was going to find out sooner or later, whether from him or from Dr Trenwith. He took a deep breath.

"Sam, they think you've got bubonic plague."

Sam stared, a look of shock in his eyes. "How can I have bubonic plague? It's the wrong century."

"That's what I said. But apparently it's still around and that little piece of shit you found in your bed the other night is quite likely to have been carrying it. I told you rats are bad news."

"What, you mean it gave me plague when it bit me?"

"No, its fleas gave you plague when they bit you. This is serious Sam. They didn't call it the Black Death for nothing you know." It was an effort to keep his voice from shaking.

"But it's treatable these days, right?"

"Yeah, but the doc," Dean stopped and took a deep breath before continuing, "The doc said…I mean, you're young and you're strong, more than likely you'll be fine…but…." He stopped, unable to go on.

"But what, Dean?" Sam looked at his brother, fear clearly evident in his eyes and his voice.

Dean swallowed. "She said you could die." He finished quietly.

Sam just stared. Dean reached out tentatively and took Sam's hand in his own, squeezing gently. Sam squeezed back.

"I'm not going anywhere Dean. I'm definitely not going anywhere you can't follow." His voice was shaking but the fear in his eyes had been joined by determination.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or is even reading this!

**Wrong Century Ch 4**

Dean finally succumbed to exhaustion around eleven. He was still asleep when Bobby arrived at half past twelve. Sam too was sleeping, arms and legs now free of restraints, fingers knotted through Dean's. Bobby was about to go and leave them in peace when Dean stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hey, Bobby." He murmured sleepily

"Dean. How's Sam doing?"

"Well his fever has come down a little and he hasn't had any hallucinations recently."

"Hallucinations?"

"He was a bit delirious yesterday."

"What happened?"

Dean proceeded to tell Bobby the whole story. Sam was woken up by Bobby's laughter after hearing about the dancing elephants. Somehow Sam managed to hold his tongue until Dean had finished.

"Dancing elephants?! Things attacking me I get, but dancing elephants?!"

"I know, I couldn't understand it either. You have one weird imagination Sammy."

Sam gave Dean a long suffering look and changed the subject.

"So Dean, what are we going to do about the fuath?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing yet anyway. I'm not leaving you."

Sam opened his mouth to reply but Bobby cut in. "What's this about a fuath?"

Dean sighed. "It's why we were here Bobby. We think there's one in the lake at the town park."

"I could deal with it for you."

"Not by yourself Bobby. I mean, you're good, but if that thing gets you underwater you're not likely to come up again. You need backup."

"Well why don't you go Dean?" Sam piped up.

"I already told you Sam, I'm not leaving you."

"I'll be fine Dean; it's not as if it'll take long for you to knife the damn thing."

"No Sam. This is not negotiable. I'm staying with you."

It was not going to be a short argument and clearly Bobby could sense that.

"Ok boys, I'm going to go to the cafeteria for a while. Let me know when you've finished arguing." He left.

"Dean, stop being stupid. What if the fuath gets someone else while you're hanging around here with me? Just go with Bobby."

Dean shook his head. "No. Sam I don't want you to be alone if you…" He paused.

"If I die?" Sam supplied softly

"Yeah."

"Dean I'll be fine. Dr Trenwith said that the antibiotics seem to be working and I know I feel better than I did yesterday."

"I still don't want to leave you."

"You won't be gone long and I'll probably be asleep the whole time. Just do it Dean. Stop arguing with me."

Dean sighed. He still didn't want to leave Sam but he had to admit his brother had a point.

"Fine, I'll go but only if you're still doing this well tonight. Bobby can do the recon on his own."

"Thankyou. Now go find him and tell him that."

***

Night fell. Sam was sleeping and had been most of the day. Dean knew Bobby was waiting for him but he was having great difficulty bringing himself to leave Sam's side even for a moment. True, Sam hadn't gone downhill at all over the course of the day, but he hadn't improved any further either and for all that he tried to hide it Dean was scared out of his wits.

"Look at it this way Dean, the sooner we leave the sooner we'll get rid of that son of a bitch in the lake and the sooner you'll be back here." Bobby's tone was gentle, yet insistent.

"Fine." Dean sighed. With an effort he tore himself away from Sam and followed Bobby out into the night.

***

Dean was not happy. Bobby hadn't been able to find any evidence of a nest or anything else the fuath might have been calling home so he'd decided to make himself bait. Dean did not approve of the idea and had said as much. A long argument followed, during which Dean realised that even his father would have had a hard time rivalling Bobby in the stubborn ass department – which was saying something. He'd eventually given up trying to talk Bobby out of it but he still felt uneasy as he stood in the shadows watching, waiting for the thing to show itself.

In the end it happened so quickly Dean almost missed it. One second Bobby was standing by the water, the next he was disappearing below the surface in the clutches of one scary ass looking monster. Gripping his knife tightly he sprinted down to the lake and dived in, gasping at the feel of the freezing water against his skin. At least any heat the knife had absorbed from Dean's body would be long gone by the time he reached the creature.

Dean reached the middle of the lake before he caught sight of the creature again, Bobby thrashing weakly in its grip. He had to get Bobby out of there quickly; it was plain that the older man was fast running out of oxygen. Diving down behind the creature, Dean tried to be a quiet as possible; the creature seemed preoccupied with Bobby but that wouldn't last and he didn't want to attract its attention if he could help it. He raised the knife and struck at the same moment that the horned tail connected with his leg, drawing blood. Spewing curses inside his head and working hard to suppress a gasp of pain which would have filled his lungs with water, Dean twisted the knife savagely for good measure – suddenly gripped with a desire to cause the thing as much pain as possible. It gave a loud cry and let go of Bobby as the water turned red around it. Dean ignored it and focused on getting Bobby and himself to the surface as quickly as possible.

It seemed like an eternity before Dean's head broke the surface and he could have cried with relief when Bobby took a long shuddering gasp of air. For a moment Dean had been afraid that it was too late for him.

As they dragged themselves on to dry land, Dean turned to see what had become of the creature. It was nowhere to be seen. Dean would have liked to salt and burn it for good measure but he was certain the thing had died when he stabbed it and since he had no desire to go back in the water decided he was quite happy to let it rest on the bottom of the lake.

At least for tonight.

He turned his attention to Bobby. Apart from being half drowned it seemed nothing much was wrong with him other than a few shallow scratches.

"Come on Bobby, before we both get hypothermia." Dean helped the older man to his feet.

***

The drive back to the hospital seemed to take forever. Dean was so desperate to get back to Sam that if it wasn't for Bobby bringing him to his senses he probably wouldn't have stopped to change out of his wet clothes before leaving. He was driving well over the speed limit and would be in deep shit if there were any cops around but he didn't care. Bobby kept making comments about insane speeds and making holes in the floor of the car with the gas pedal but he may as well have been speaking Russian because Dean was paying him no attention whatsoever. Even though he realised that Dr Trenwith would probably have called him if anything had happened with Sam, and there had been no missed calls on his phone when he checked it after returning to the car, he felt uneasy. He hadn't wanted to leave Sam and how many times had his little brother said 'I'll be fine' and ended up being anything but?

Dean pulled the Impala into an empty parking space in front of the hospital and was out like a shot. He ran around to the other side of the car to help Bobby out. His efforts were not appreciated.

"Get your hands off me boy, I'm not a damn invalid!"

"Fine. I just thought, you know, that after nearly being drowned by the creature from the black lagoon you might like a little help."

"Well I wouldn't."

Reaching Sam's room, Dean almost collided with Dr Trenwith who was just leaving.

"Dean, I'm glad you're here."

"Why? Has something happened?" He only barely managed to keep the panic out of his voice.

"It's nothing to worry about. Sam's just developed a bit of tachycardia, probably caused by his fever."

"Tacky what?"

"Tachycardia, rapid heartbeat. It's not life threatening, just a bit distressing for him. I've offered to call you several times but he wouldn't let me."

"Of course." Dean growled

"Just be nice." She opened her mouth to say something else but stopped abruptly, staring at Dean's leg.

Dean followed her gaze and realised that there was blood on his jeans. He silently swore at himself. He'd been in such a hurry to get back here that he'd done a half assed job dressing the wounds caused by the fuath's tail and now he was paying for it.

"What did you do to your leg?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

Dr Trenwith shot him a disbelieving look. "Well, since you're not my patient I can't force you to let me take a look at it. But I can bar you from visiting Sam, which probably wouldn't be in his best interests but then neither is you bleeding to death or dying of septicaemia. So you can let me take a look at that leg now or I will bar you from seeing Sam until you do. Your choice."

Dean glared at her. "Can I pick neither?" There was no reply. "Fine, I'll let you look at my damn leg." He'd think of some bullshit story to tell her, anything to make sure he could continue to visit Sam.

***

"Wow Dean, you've got some pretty deep gashes there. Wanna tell me how you got them?"

"I fell on some sharp rocks." It sounded pathetic even to Dean, and he could only hope she didn't ask where he'd found sharp rocks to fall on.

Dr Trenwith raised an eyebrow. "Well would you look at that? I do believe I just saw a pig fly past the window."

"Does it matter how I got them?" Dean snapped.

"I guess not, as long as you're up to date with your tetanus shots."

"I don't know – can't remember the last time I had one."

"Well I guess I better give you one then, just to be on the safe side. After I've sewn these up of course." She pointed to the two deepest gashes.

"Good, you've got a plan then. Now will you please hurry up so I can go see my brother?" Dean asked irritably, wishing he hadn't let Bobby take their wet clothes to the laundromat. Then at least someone would be in with Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, that would be Kripke and co.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or is even reading this!

**Wrong Century Ch 5**

"Where have you been? I thought I heard you outside my room an hour ago but you never came in." Dean could see that Sam was trying to act casual but his sweaty face and too fast breathing belied his nonchalant tone.

"Your doctor took it upon herself to patch up my leg, said she'd stop me from visiting you if I didn't let her." He replied, sitting down and pulling his chair close to Sam's bed.

Sam gave a shaky smile. "Can't take no for an answer can she?"

"Well apparently she did when you told her not to call me about your tacky-whatever, heart thing." Dean tried not to sound accusing but Sam picked up on it anyway.

"Dude, you were hunting a water spirit. You probably didn't even have your phone on you, I know I wouldn't if I was planning on jumping into a lake, so you wouldn't have known until you got in the car to come back here anyway. What good would it have done?"

Dean sighed. "I hate it when you're right."

Sam grinned. "I thought you would have been used to it by now."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They looked at each other and smiled.

"So why did your leg need patching up?"

"Why do you think? Damn thing hit me with its tail which, if you remember, is covered in very sharp horns."

"Are you ok?"

Dean gave him a withering look. "If I wasn't do you think I'd be here right now?"

"Yes." Sam answered immediately.

"Ok, so I probably would be. Seriously though, I'm fine. Bobby's the one who got half drowned."

"How did that happen? I thought the whole point of you going together was so the fuath didn't get the chance to try that."

"Well Bobby couldn't find anything that indicated where the thing might be living so he decided to act as bait."

"He what?!"

"You heard me. I tried to talk him out of it but I swear to God that whoever came up with the phrase 'stubborn as a mule' was looking at Bobby when they thought of it. If I hadn't caved when I did we would have been there all night."

"How is he?"

"Bobby's fine. Apart from a few little scratches you wouldn't know anything had happened. He'll be here in the morning so you can see for yourself then. Personally I'm more concerned with how you're doing. The doc said you were pretty upset."

"Wouldn't you be if it felt like your heart was trying to escape from your chest?" Sam snapped defensively.

"Hey, easy there. I'm not trying to make fun of you or anything."

"Sorry." Sam looked ashamed. "I just, I don't know, feel pathetic. I mean, you and Bobby have just been risking your lives fighting damn Nessy and yet here you are worrying about me."

"Sam, for starters you are not pathetic and secondly that fuath was nowhere near as big as the Loch Ness Monster is meant to be." Dean smiled warmly.

Sam smiled back. "You're amazing."

"Damn straight."

***

He didn't know where he was or where he was going but he was running, filled with an inexplicable urgency. Coming to a stop on the edge of a cliff that was just as unfamiliar as the rest of the landscape he understood. There, clinging to a ledge just a couple of feet below, was Sam. Dean lay down on the ground and stretched his arms towards his dangling brother.

"Come on Sammy, I've got ya, just grab my hands!" He could have sworn that the blood in his veins had been replaced by streams of pure panic.

Sam gave no indication that he heard Dean, or even that he could see him.

Dean tried again. "Sammy!"

There was no response and Dean could only watch in horror as Sam's hands slipped so that he was just hanging on by his fingertips.

Dean tried desperately to reach Sam, to haul him up whether he liked it or not, but he simply couldn't reach far enough. Any second now Sam was going to plummet to his death and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. This couldn't be happening. He screamed.

"SAMMY! Don't do this! Please, stay with me! I can't lose you; I'd die if I lost you!"

Dean's eyes widened in terror as Sam lost his tenuous hold on the ledge and began to fall.

"SAMMY! NO!" The screams spoke of unbearable anguish and despair.

Without pausing to think about what he was doing Dean jumped up and stepped off the edge after his brother, not caring that he couldn't even begin to see the ground.

***

"Dean? Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes and his surroundings slowly swam into focus. He recognised the place; it was the hospital room Sammy had occupied for the past couple of days. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Sam's face. It made him look like the angel he was,Dean thought. He shook his head. That was way too sappy. Good thing Sam couldn't read his thoughts or he'd have been getting shit for that one as long as he lived. He gazed at Sam in wonderment and relief. Sammy was alive and talking to him. The whole cliff thing must have been a disturbingly vivid nightmare. Thank God.

"Dean, are you ok? You were thrashing about like a fish on a hook and mumbling something."

"I'm fine. Just an unbelievably bad dream, that's all."

"It must have been really bad. You were screaming before, so loud you woke me up and brought the nurse running in." He looked at Dean with concern in his eyes. "What were you dreaming about that was so bad?"

"I'm not sure; I only remember bits and pieces. Something about a cliff I think." That was a lie, he remembered much better than he would like but he didn't want to go into details.

Sam looked sceptical. "It's ok if you don't want to tell me, I understand. Sometimes it's bad enough dreaming it without having to talk about it afterwards."

"Exactly, so thanks for not pressing." He paused. "You look better."

"I feel better. Nurse said it looked like my heart rate was down a bit, maybe the tachycardia is going away. My fever's down a bit too, one degree I think she said."

Dean beamed. "That's great Sammy!"

Sam laughed. "Don't get too excited. I'm stuck in here for another eight days no matter how good I feel."

"Why?"

"Because that's how long I have to be on the IV antibiotics."

"Can't they give you tablets or something?"

"I asked. I was told no."

Dean gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh well, as long as you're getting better." Sam had better be recovering. Losing him in that dream had been bad enough. He shifted a little in his seat. "God I hate these chairs. Why is it there're never any decent chairs for visitors? I don't think I've ever come across a hospital that had any chairs even approaching comfortable." He wriggled some more as if to emphasise the point. Actually, the chair could have been worse; Dean just wanted to make sure the conversation didn't return to the topic of his nightmare.

"I think there's a law against it."

Dean snorted. "I will say this though; at least I've had an excuse not to go back inside that damn pink motel room."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I think I'd take the pink room over plague, Dean."

"So would I. I'm just looking on the bright side, Sammy."

The conversation ended abruptly when a nurse walked in. Dean didn't really want to talk in front of her and he had little interest in talking to her. So he sat in silence as the nurse took Sam's temperature and his blood pressure, replaced his IV bag and wrote something on his chart, looking but not really seeing what was going on. Images from his nightmare rolled around in his head. Dean's throat constricted and his eyes prickled with tears he had no intention of shedding as the terror of watching Sam fall to his death rolled over him in waves. He didn't notice the nurse leave, didn't notice anything until he heard Sam's voice calling him gently back from the horror movie that had taken over his mind.

"Dean? Dean? Are you going to sit there staring all day?" Sam's tone was light but his eyes betrayed his concern.

"She's gone has she? Good. She had a face like a gargoyle." Dean's 'I'm fine' mask slipped back into place.

Sam couldn't help laughing a little. "That's a bit mean."

"Yeah, you're right. Insult to gargoyles."

Sam laughed a little more then pulled himself together, a serious expression on his face. Dean groaned inwardly. Please don't, Sammy. I don't want to talk about this now_._

Sam opened his mouth but before he could speak Bobby walked in. Dean sighed with relief; he was saved!

"So Sam, how're you doing?" Bobby didn't even seem to notice he'd interrupted anything.

***

"Come on Dean, you can tell me."

Bobby hadn't even been gone two minutes and Sam had already started. Kid was like a dog with a bone. Dean could see he wasn't going to get out of talking about this. He sighed, may as well get it over and done with now.

"You'd fallen over a cliff and you were hanging on to a ledge. I tried to help you but you didn't seem to even realise I was there and I couldn't reach far enough. You were slowly losing your grip. I would have down just about anything for some Inspector Gadget arms. It got to the point where you were hanging on by your fingertips and then…you fell. I couldn't even see the ground below, I knew you were dead. So I got up and I jumped off after you."

Dean looked away hoping, foolishly perhaps, that Sam wouldn't press any further. He looked up when he felt a warm hand on his arm. Sam was looking at him, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"I guess we'd better hope you haven't started having prophetic dreams then." Sam commented shakily. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Why did you jump off after me?"

Dean looked at him incredulously. "We were out in some godforsaken desert I don't know where and you'd just died. What possible reason could there have been for me to stay?" You're my life Sammy, he added silently. If you were to die now I think it'd be a safe bet that my tonsils would get introduced to my gun before too long. Or the crossroads bitch.

Sam gazed at him sadly. "Dean, your life is worth a hell of a lot more than you seem to think. You are worth a hell of a lot more, and I shouldn't be your only reason for living. Surely you have dreams, or did Dad beat all of them out of you?"

Dean was silent for a moment before replying. "I have dreams." He swallowed. _But there isn't one of them that doesn't include you._


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural, Kripke still does.

A/N 1: A big thankyou to everyone who has reviewed or is even reading this!

A/N 2: The song in the fic is 'Shine On' by Jet.

**Wrong Century Ch 6**

It had seemed like forever but finally the interminably long day gave way to night. Dean was exhausted but he was wary of going to sleep. To say that the dream of the previous night had rattled him was major understatement. He tried to keep himself awake by talking to Sam, rabbiting on about nothing in particular, but now Sam was asleep and Dean could feel sleep taking a hold of him too. His eyelids felt like they had sinkers attached. The darkness of Sam's room wasn't helping. He felt himself dozing off. Forcing his eyes open he decided that since Sam was asleep it was safe to go to the cafeteria for a while and have a coffee or two.

Looking at his watch as he made his way along the corridor he realised it was already eight thirty. Would the cafeteria even be open still? Dean shrugged to himself; it didn't matter. Even going up and down the stairs might wake him up a bit.

As it turned out the cafeteria was still open. As the middle aged woman at the counter pointed out the hospital never closed and there was always someone around who was hungry or thirsty. Dean asked for a strong black coffee and sat down at one of the small tables listening to the music that was pouring from the small speaker above his head. It wasn't anything Dean would expect to find in his tape collection but it was far from excruciating. His drink was brought over within a couple of minutes and he sipped happily, enjoying the wakefulness brought on by the caffeine.

Dean's happiness lasted all of two minutes. That was how long it took for the first song to end and the next to come on. The lyrics were quite clear and Dean almost spilled his coffee when he heard them. His throat constricted and he found himself fighting back tears. Perhaps it was the recent nightmare or the stress of Sam's illness or both but Dean could almost hear his brother's voice saying those things to him.

_Please don't cry_

_You know I'm leaving here tonight_

_Before I go I want you to know_

_There will always be a light_

_If the moon has run away_

_And all the stars didn't wanna play_

_Don't waste the sun on a rainy day_

_The wind will soon blow it all away_

_Yeah_

_So many times I planned_

_To be much more than who I am_

_If I let you down_

_I will follow you round_

_Until you understand_

_If the moon has run away_

_And all the stars didn't wanna play_

_Don't waste the sun on a rainy day_

_The wind will soon blow it all away_

_Yeah, oh yeah_

_When the days all feel the same_

_Don't feel the cold or wind or rain_

_Everything will be ok_

_We will meet again one day_

Dean bolted, unable to listen to any more. He stopped at the elevators but ended up taking the stairs because he was too impatient to wait more than ten seconds after pushing the button. He had to get back to Sam's room, had to see his brother, make sure he was still breathing.

***

Sam's room was dark but Dean could tell his brother was awake. He could hear Sam breathing but it wasn't the deep, even breathing of sleep. Fear clutching at his heart, certain something was wrong, Dean switched on the light above Sam's bed.

Sam winced. "Dean, turn the damn light off." He was clutching at his temples, face flushed and shiny with sweat.

Dean did as he was told. It was clear Sam was in pain and Dean had no desire to make it worse.

"What's wrong?"

"I think my head's about to explode." He drew a ragged breath.

Dean grabbed at the call button and pressed it hard. He reached out and touched Sam's arm.

"Someone will be here soon; maybe they can give you some pain meds." He told Sam soothingly, trying not to let his brother detect his fear.

Within two minutes a nurse appeared at the door. She turned on the light as she entered the room and Sam howled with pain.

"Do you need the light on?" Dean asked her. "Cause it's making my brother's headache worse."

"I'll turn it off again soon." She assured him. "I just need to get a good look at him first."

She took his temperature, frowning at the thermometer. She turned to Sam.

"So apart from the severe headache is there anything else you can tell me?" She asked gently.

"Neck hurts." Sam croaked.

The nurse's frown deepened. She moved to the other side of Sam's bed, next to Dean, and picked up the phone.

"Emma? I need a doctor in room 15. Is Sylvia Trenwith still here?" She listened for a moment and sighed. "Well, whoever's on call then I guess, and make it quick. Thanks." She hung up.

Dean just stared at her wide eyed. Whatever was going on with Sam it was clearly way more serious than a garden variety headache. Dean was glad he hadn't given in to Bobby's pleas for him to go back to the motel for the night.

***

A short time later the doctor arrived, a short middle aged man who the nurse referred to as Dr Jamieson. He hovered over Sam, talking in low tones to the nurse and ignoring Dean completely. When he finally finished examining Sam, Jamieson turned to Dean with a grim expression and asked if he could speak to him outside. Dean followed him with a sense of foreboding, his heart sinking into his boots. Whatever the doc wanted to tell him it was obviously very bad.

They reached the sofa near the nurses' station and Jamieson motioned for Dean to sit down.

"You're Sam's brother?"

"Yeah." Just tell me what's going on already.

Jamieson sighed. There was sadness in his eyes. "Sam seems to have developed plague meningitis. I'm sorry to have to tell you this but plague meningitis is usually fatal. We'll do everything we can, but you should probably call your parents, anyone he's close to. So they can say goodbye."

***

A/N 3: Sorry about the cliffie! I'll be back with another chapter tomorrow, I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything associated with it. That would be Kripke and co.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or is even reading this!

**Wrong Century Ch 7**

Dean sat holding Sam's hand, now that he'd been given something for the pain and wasn't holding on to his temples like they might fall off anymore. He'd called Bobby but he hadn't been able to bring himself to mention saying goodbye to Sam. Dean had a feeling Bobby understood though. He hadn't been able to hide the concern in his voice just as Dean hadn't been able to stop his own voice from trembling. He'd be there soon, probably within the next few minutes.

"Hey Sammy," Dean whispered, "Please don't go. The doc said what you've got…it's usually fatal. He didn't say always. Please be one of the lucky ones. Please…I need you."

There was a commotion somewhere outside. Dean wasn't sure what was going on until he heard a familiar voice shouting.

"Screw visiting hours! Sam might not even be here for visiting hours tomorrow!" Bobby was here and someone was trying to stop him getting to Sam.

Beside him Sam stirred and moaned. He mumbled something that sounded like "Make them stop."

Dean strode to the door and looked out. He saw the source of the noise immediately. Bobby was surrounded by three nurses, all of whom were clearly intent on getting rid of him.

"Will you just shut up and let him through!" Dean snapped. "You're upsetting my brother with all that noise. Anyway, I asked him to come. He's all Sammy and I have apart from each other and I've just been told my brother is dying so let him through!" Dean stopped, breathing heavily. He'd just said it out loud.

He walked back into the room, slumping down in his chair and taking Sam's hand once again. Tears welled in Dean's eyes.

"Come on Sammy. Don't leave me here with these nut jobs. I'll go mad." He whispered, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him.

Sam's eyes flickered open. "Don't want to leave. Love you." He managed to croak out.

"I love you too." Dean replied, tears now slipping down his cheeks. It was something that generally went unsaid, and Dean liked it that way, but at least now, if Sam went, he would know for certain.

Bobby walked into the room wearing a scowl that was soon replaced by a worried look at the sight of Sam.

"Dean, you said out there that Sam was dying. What happened?" He asked quietly.

Dean bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. "They said he has plague meningitis. They said I should ring everyone Sam's close to so," he swallowed, "So they can say…so they can say…goodbye." That last word was barely audible, but Dean knew Bobby had heard him when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, Sam's one of the strongest people I know. If anyone could beat the odds on this one it would be him." He paused for a moment before continuing. "But even if he does go, he's a part of you Dean. He'll always be with you."

Dean supposed that the words were meant to be comforting, but they weren't really doing a very good job.

"I wonder if there're any dirt crossroads near here."

"Dean Winchester!" Bobby's voice was low but furious. "If you even so much as think about making a deal with a demon, so help me God, I'll kick you so hard you'll have to spend the rest of your life with my boot stuck up your ass! Don't you remember how you felt when you found out what your daddy did for you? I very much doubt you'd want that for Sam."

Dean immediately felt ashamed. He hung his head. "I'm sorry Bobby. I just, I can't imagine living without Sammy and I don't want to."

***

Dean didn't know what time it was when he heard someone come into the room. He knew it wasn't Bobby because he could hear the older man snoring. Bobby had talked softly to Sam for a while before Dean had asked for some time alone with his brother. Bobby had retired to the sofa where Dr Jamieson had given Dean the awful news with strict instructions to wake him should anything happen.

It was still dark, the first grey light of dawn barely piercing the ebony sky, so all Dean could see was a dark human shape moving quietly towards Sam's bed. Maybe it was the nurse in to check on Sam again. Dean thought it was sort of funny how the nurses told Sam to get some rest and then proceeded to bug him on a regular basis to take his obs.

The figure reached the head of Sam's bed and Dean waited for it to turn on the light as the nurse always did. The light came, but not from the globe above Sam's bed. A soft white light emanated from what Dean could now see was the figure's hand. That hand was resting on Sam's arm and as Dean watched he could see that the light appeared to be bleeding into his brother. He stood up quietly and crept around the bed and up behind the figure. As he got closer he detected a slight floral scent that seemed vaguely familiar to him. So it was a woman then, unless it was a man with a seriously questionable taste in aftershave. The fact that the scent was familiar wasn't very helpful. He might know her, but then again it might be someone who wore the same perfume as one or more of the many women Dean had slept with over the years. Either way, the light up hand was not something he was prepared to ignore. It just screamed supernatural.

Dean grabbed the woman, whoever she was, and flicked on the light.

"What the hell are you doing to my brother?!" He growled.

He turned to take a good look at his captive, now that the light was on, and was astonished to see it was Dr Trenwith.

"Let go you're hurting me!"

"Tell me what you're doing to my brother!"

"I'm trying to help him now please let go."

Dean relaxed his grip a little but still held on to her.

"What's with the hand?"

She sighed. "You probably won't believe me."

"Oh, I can believe a lot lady."

She stared at him for a moment as though trying to decide if it was safe to tell him. It was a bit unnerving for Dean, being so closely scrutinised. She looked deep into his eyes and it was almost as though she could see his soul. He hoped that was just an impression he was getting and not the truth. Dean didn't like the idea of anyone seeing the twisted, broken wreck he was inside and most of the time he did a good job of preventing that. Now, even though his game face was firmly in place he felt as though she could see through every emotional wall he'd ever built.

Finally she gave a slight nod and began to speak.

"Dean, I can heal others. I don't know why I have this ability or where it came from but I know I've had since I was a young child. I want to help your brother. I thought the antibiotics would do the trick for him but when I arrived for work this morning I was told he'd developed plague meningitis and was expected to die. I intend to make sure he survives."

She appeared to be telling the truth and Dean's hopes began to rise, until another question presented itself to his mind.

"If you have this gift then why are there any patients in this hospital?"

She gave him a sad smile. "If I attempted to heal even a few of the worst cases here completely I would die. I have to make do with spreading myself thin, helping a little bit where I can, just enough to tip the balance in the patient's favour so that conventional medicine will be able to take them the rest of the way. Sam here is a special case."

"Why is that?"

"Because by making him well, two lives will be saved."

Dean nodded. He thought he understood what she was saying and he didn't want to pry any further.

"I'll let you get on with it then."

***

Dean sat watching Dr Trenwith for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality about ten minutes. He watched the light bleed into Sam, filling him so that he glowed like a man on fire. White fire, but fire nonetheless. Dean still held Sam's hand and he could swear that he could feel the light in there, pleasantly warm and gently pulsing.

Then the light faded, sinking into Sam's body until it was no more, and Dr Trenwith opened her eyes. She was sweaty, trembling and swaying on the spot as though she was dizzy. Dean got up and helped her over to his chair.

"I'm ok, you can stop fussing. It's nothing a cup of coffee won't fix." She smiled at him. "Sam should wake up soon. I might have to keep him in until he's finished the course of antibiotics if I can't come up with a good reason to release him, but he'll be fine. The disease is gone from his system now."

"Thankyou." Dean's voice cracked with emotion despite his best efforts to keep it steady. No words could ever fully describe just how grateful he was.

Sam was going to live.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I'm sure none of you are crazy enough to think that I could possibly be the mind behind Supernatural but, just to make everything clear, I still do not own it!

A/N: And so we come to the end of the story. I much prefer writing beginnings myself....Anyway, a big thank you to all of you who have left a review or are even just reading this! I hope you've enjoyed it.

**Wrong Century Ch 8**

"Dean?"

The word was barely audible but it was like music to Dean's ears.

"Hey Sammy."

Dean laid a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder as Sam's eyes flickered open.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel good." Sam frowned. "I thought they said I was as good as dead. Why am I still here?"

"You got lucky." Dean replied evasively.

Sam eyed him suspiciously. "Dean, you didn't…did you?"

Anyone else wouldn't have had a clue what Sam was talking about but Dean easily filled in the gap.

"No. I guess it was about time we had some good luck for a change."

"What happened?" Curiosity was written all over Sam's face.

"It turns out Dr Trenwith has some special abilities. She healed you."

Sam looked at Dean incredulously. "Is that the best you could come up with?"

Dean shrugged. "She'll be back in to see you soon, ask her yourself."

***

"Sam, there are snails that move faster than you! Just jump in!" Dean huffed impatiently as Sam tentatively dipped one toe in the water. They were at the lake preparing to retrieve the fuath's body from the dark depths and Dean, already in the water, was freezing.

Personally Dean would have preferred if Sam stayed out of the lake. He'd tried to fob him off with what the arguably less risky job of standing watch while he went diving alone but he might as well have been talking to a tree. Dean knew that Sam was completely well again but after coming so close to losing his little brother he felt entitled to be a bit overprotective. Ok, very overprotective. Sam had made it clear that he didn't agree.

There was a big splash and then Sam came up gasping and pushing his sodden fringe out of his eyes.

"Sam!" Dean hissed. "What happened to being quiet?"

Sam just grinned sheepishly.

"Never mind." Dean sighed. "Come on, you've got the waterproof flashlight. Lead the way Francis."

Sam rolled his eyes at the name and gave Dean the finger before doing as his brother had asked.

It took longer than Dean thought to locate the body. Even with the flashlight it was difficult to see much through the murky water. Dean was starting to think that some poor person would probably find them in the morning, floating in big blocks of ice, when Sam finally caught sight of something.

Diving down for a closer look they could see that it was definitely the fuath and they began the long, arduous process of pulling it up.

It was decomposing, waterlogged and quite frankly disgusting. Out of the water the stench of it made Dean nauseous and more than once he gagged, fully expecting to bring up every meal he'd ever eaten along with his toenails. Luckily that didn't happen but it was a close thing and judging by the sounds Sam kept making his brother was having the same difficulty making the contents of his stomach stay put. Not that they hadn't been expecting the fuath to be in that condition; they had bought a large sheet of plastic at the hardware store that afternoon in order to deal with this.

Once the fuath's remains were safely wrapped in plastic they deposited it in the Impala's trunk, which was also lined with plastic in preparation. Dean wasn't about to allow rotting fuath to be smeared all over his baby. Salting and burning it in the park would undoubtedly attract a lot of attention so they had decided to take the remains out of town to dispose of them. When they'd finished with that the plan was to put Hopeton behind them and find a new hunt.

Dean was all for going back to Bowen, Arizona and giving the manager of the rat infested motel a piece of his mind or, more likely, his fists. Better still, why not just cure the idiot's lead deficiency and be done with it?

However, as Sam pointed out to him, doing that would probably just attract more unwanted attention from the police so Dean had had to make do with dobbing in the stupid little man to the Health Department. He had also bought a large quantity of rat poison, determined that no rat would ever again survive entering their motel room. He didn't care that Sam was probably immune to plague now, he was not going through that again.

Dean glanced over at Sam as he drove. It was hard to believe that only five days ago Sam had been on his deathbed and Dean found himself constantly checking to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Have I got two heads or something?" Sam demanded.

"No."

"Well why are you staring at me then? You should be looking at the road."

"Who says I'm staring at you?'

"Jerk." Sam paused for a moment. "But seriously Dean, you don't need to keep making sure I'm still here."

"I wasn't checking on you, I was checking on the upholstery. You've got half the lake in that hair and I can't have my baby going round with water damage on her seats." Dean smirked.

"Thanks." Sam said sourly.

"Anytime."

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. They had chosen this particular field for its remoteness and the cover provided by the trees in the southwest corner.

Getting the plastic wrapped bundle out of the Impala's trunk was a cumbersome task and the air quickly turned a nice shade of blue as both men voiced their frustration. Dean in particular was not happy as he found out the hard way that the horns on the thing's tail had pierced the plastic.

"Damn thing's dead and it's still attacking me!" He spat as one of the horns pierced his hand, drawing blood.

"That looks bad. Do you want to stop for a bit?" Sam looked worriedly at Dean's bleeding wound.

"I'm fine!" Dean snapped. "I'll deal with my hand after we've turned this son-of-a-bitch into dust."

Reaching the cover of the trees they deposited the fuath's remains in the dirt. Dean covered it in gasoline and added some firelighters for good measure before setting it ablaze. He watched, satisfied, as the flames took hold and pressed his shirt against his still bleeding hand.

Looking up, Dean watched as the light from the flames danced across Sam's face. It could have been Sam's body being consumed by the hungry fire. Dean's eyes prickled with tears as he thought about it. Sam looked at him questioningly but all Dean had to offer in the way of reassurance was a weak smile. Sam smiled back. _I love you._

Eventually the fire burned itself out. Sam got two shovels from the Impala and they made quick work of burying the pile of ashes that was all that was left of the fuath. The hunt was over.

In the car driving away, Dean watched Sam sleep. His hospital pallor made him look almost like a ghost in the moonlight. _Thank God you're still here_, Dean thought. He pressed down on the accelerator, sending the car speeding off into the night.

Was there a way he could feed that motel manager some rat poison without Sam realising?


End file.
